Sixteen Steps on the Spiral Staircase
by xkaiistarx
Summary: Their voices plead, a rising crescendo amid the drumming in my brain. I sighed exasperatedly, but there was no mistaking the eager thumping of my heart. Contains drabbles of Hetalia, Shingeki no Kyojin, Pokemon, Journey and others.


Birthday fic for me, dedicated to my inner muses who would not shut up about this. I love you guys. Happy April 24th.

* * *

I: _Apotheosis_ (Journey PS3) Unknown Red Cloaks

We met, single travellers down the road, and decided to come together. Past the fields of sand and sea, seaweed and freed carpets trailing our wake, we moved ever closer to our destined road. There were serpents that we had to flee, and dragons we had to follow. Fishes to save, and eagles to lit. Still, not once did you leave me, and not once did I leave you.

We who could not talk, talked through our hearts. Cries of happiness, relief, pain, distress, we conveyed what we could and though that did not amount to much, it felt like it mounted to everything at once.

Now we walked to the bright light, and I know in my deepest of desires that I would never leave you, my dear companion and compatriot, my dear friend, destined one to cross paths with mine. The path narrows and grows ever brighter; we walked in single file down the road to our approaching destination. Our journey grows ever closer to the end, but I'm not afraid of where this would take me. As long as we stayed together, I am not afraid.

We entered the light, and I felt you take my hand.

* * *

II: _Comrades _(Hetalia) Poland, Hungary

For as long as he remembers they have been clashing. Biting remarks against swords, chilling insults against spears. He thinks from all the time that they used to fight that he-she now, he remembers-would come to hate him. But he couldn't be more mistaken. And now, standing back to back with his enemy-slash-rival-turned-comrade, he could barely keep the pleased and relieved expression off the grin on this face.

Elizaveta fixed him a slightly exasperated look as she hacked at yet another enemy soldier, eyes betraying irritation. "Feliks, this is war. Wake up and attack before you get killed."

"Hey, that was not really nice. And I believed the phrase was 'Wake up and smell the roses'."

"Just shut up and slash at them idiot."

* * *

III: _Opposites_ (Hetalia) Greece, Vietnam

They were polar opposites, no doubt about that. She was hardworking, diligent, stubborn, serious, upright. He was a slacker, lazy, laid-back, lax, jovial in a really offhand, casual way. They say opposites attract, but it was hard to believe that the two of them, out of all the opposites, would end up together as an item. But they did, and they did work.

Pressing a hand to Lien's waist and pulling her to him, Hercules smiled lazily, eyes fluttering close as he pressed his forehead against the side of her head. The female stiffened, but relaxed grudgingly into his embrace. The Greek could be rather clingy if he wanted to. Minutes passed like this, and before long Lien felt her eyes slipped close. The warm air made her drowsy, and a quick rest for her body turned to a full blown nap.

It was only after her breathing turned steady did Hercules opened his eyes. Smirking gently, he rose from his spot from the sofa and picked up the sleeping Asian in his arms, walking to the room she insisted she not share with him and placing her softly on the bed. Tucking her in, he crawled in after her through the mass of sheets and blankets and wrapped her in a loose embrace, eyes shutting close and giving in to sleep.

* * *

IV:_ Preferences_ (Shingeki no Kyojin) Annie, Bertholdt

Just like how Sasha loves her food and Jean loves his scarf-wearing, badass looking girls, Annie loves her steak. Medium cooked, somewhere over to the rare side. And since he knows how much she loves her steak and would kill all if one so much as touches the perfectly cooked thing, Bertholdt questioned why he was going along with the plan even as Reiner and Connie dragged him to the cordon-off part of the staff's kitchen where Eren lay in wait with the raw slab of meat. Heck, he even liked the girl for goodness sake!

His final thought when Annie caught them stuffing mashed red hot chilli peppers into the marinate was that even if Annie killed him right then and there, he would never trade off this image of her flustered, surprised, and speechless all at the same time for a split-second. She had looked impossibly cute startled like that.

* * *

V: _Brink of_ (Pokemon) Kalos heroine, Red

The girl stands, Pokeball in hand and Linoone by her side. Across her the figure stood, mirroring her actions, his renowned signature yellow rodent partner crouched in an offensive stance.

Seisel nods, her eyes locking with the blacks of the male. Stature tall and clothes in a shade of blazing red, orange and inky black, the older Pokemon legend looked so different from what the rumours said about him. Age had made its mark, and Seisel founded he was nothing like the childhood fable that she once knew. Though his face betrayed nothing, there was a competitive twinkle in his eye as he initiated a silent command to his partner.

Pikachu moves forward, eyes gleaming in excitement of the upcoming battle. Mirroring his movements, Linoone darts forward, fighting intent evident in his eyes.

Seisel lowers her head slightly, an indication for the battle to start and Red twists the edge of his baseball cap, As one, both region champions commenced their first attacks in a battle long awaited.

* * *

VI: _Solace_ (Hetalia) Norway, Vietnam

Lien was crying, salty tears streaming down the crevices of her face as her body shook with silent sobs. Her eyes, usually devoid of her thoughts, had spilled forth her always so carefully concealed emotions, distorting honey brown orbs. She was in pain, and his chest ached for her.

Lukas' hand reached out to gently cradle her jaw, thumbs moving to brush the tears tenderly from her cheeks. He took another lingering look at the lithe female before craning his neck to nuzzle her hair, hands coming to pull her waist closer against his form, eyes shutting in favour of indulging in his other senses.

Feeling Lien reciprocated the action almost desperately, Lukas tightened his hold protectively on her, hoping his attempt to comfort could be enough.

* * *

VII: _The Beauty of German_ (Hetalia) Germany, Female reader

"Say, Ludwig, I really love your language."

"Pardon, Y/n?"

"I said I loved your language. There's so many words in German that are so deep and non-describable in English, and they all sound wonderful. _Abendrot_; the colour of the sky when the sun is setting, _verstehen_; the concept to put yourself in other's shoes to see things from their perspective, _vorfreude_; the joyful, intense anticipation that comes from imaging future pleasures... They are such beautiful words, don't you think so?" Y/n sighs in awe, and the sound makes Ludwig cracks a smile.

"I know a word you would like."

"Really? Please tell."

Ludwig does, and as expected, Y/n clasps her hands in delight, mind eager to devour the meaning of that precious word. With a soft smile, he does, and congratulates himself silently at her flustering appearance.

_Zweisamkeit._

* * *

VIII: _The OC table_ (Original) My OCs

Seisel sits on the plush sofa and fiddles with her hands absentmindedly. Casting her eyes around the spacious meeting room, she spots the male forms of the graceful Chinese martial arts fighter, Ming, and the broad bulk of the German sniper, Aster, doing a series of training exercises on one side of the room. A trio of eagles stood on the perches situated in the room, while a pack of wolves, the leader's coat a deep shade of greyish blue, napped in a haphazard circle. On the far end of the room she spots Karu, the sword sage, looking out of one of the many windows, gold eyes dusted with a distant haze, as though deep in thought.

There had never been spoken confirmation, but every human and creature in this room knows that he or she was waiting. Waiting for something to begin and be called upon.

Outside, a breeze started to stir and Karu glances up slowly, midnight blue hair swaying slightly. "She's coming."

Feeling the breeze start to pick up and the air moving faster in the room, Seisel closed her eyes, resisting the temptation to open them when she heard one of the wolves howl in eagerness.

Their creator was coming, and another story was about to begin.

* * *

IX: _Forelsket_ (Hetalia) Denmark, Ukraine

As per routine, he enters the tavern after nightfall for a drink and a brawl, and as per every Thursday night, she is there, a cheerful, silent spectator watching the drunken antics that was her brother and his friends, sailors with more bite than bark and whose interests lie in far more exquisite tastes and adventure in the common seaman.

Like always, he takes his place by her side and asks the waitress for a mug of mead politely. Not because he wants to impress her, oh no, for though he couldn't deny that he liked her, as he had for quite some time now, her brother had all but dashed away any hope of him ever trying to court her. Without any means or excuse to talk to her, he could only make do with silently basking in her company.

Anyone who knew the man and heard this preposterous notion would surely scoff, for Matthias Kohler, viking and captain of the _'__Norden vind __stjerne'_ was not a man known for being courteous and polite in having his interest shown in women, and nor was his action in doing so. Still, if they saw him now, none would be able to dismiss the traces of lovesickness in his eyes as he shot a glance at Yekaterina Braginskaya, first mate to her brother's ship _'__семь морей_'.

* * *

X: _C'est pour cela que je suis née _(Journey PS3) Unknown Red Cloak

In the beginning, there was nothing. Then a flicker of a vision, and there was sand. The day passed, and the tiny, minuscule grains sunk beneath my feet, shades of gold and pinks fading to murky gray. And suddenly, there is no sand, only snow, and the mountain looming ever closer.

The tombstones of my compatriots were frozen to the touch, and glinted with malicious gloom and darkened rust, branding their mark of failure. I wished to offer them comfort somehow, but all I could do in the chilling cold was to tug my cloak ever closer and walk on, following the map that was my aching heart.

* * *

XI: _Longing_ (Uta no Prince Sama) Cecil

The flutterings of a flute could be heard within the midst of the emerald-gleaming trees. Atop and hidden within the branches of green, the player continued his exhaustive playing on the wind instrument, silent frustration and sadness leading the intensity of the flute to sound almost painful and harsh to hear. Stopping abruptly, Cecil broke away from the woodwind, panting with unvented sorrow.

Clutching the metal piece close to his heart, he rubbed his head tiredly, the emerald tinge in his eyes having dulled to a murky jade a long time ago. His head hurt, his heart hurt and he was at a loss on what to do. Haruka had rejected him in favour of going out on a trip with the Starish members, and though there was nothing wrong with that, just thinking of his lovely muse with the other men made him mad with unexplainable intensity.

He loved her, longed for her, and though he had told her that he would gladly wait for her to come to him on her own free will, he still felt horrible aches in his chest whenever she would turn somewhere else. Suddenly, a faint call of his name shattered him from his musings. Straining his ears, he caught wind of the voice and its person. Haruka! Smiling, the tanned man could feel the ache in his heart beginning to fade as he leapt down the trees to reach her.

* * *

XII: _Successor_ (Hetalia) Sealand

They told him he would never become strong, would never be recognised. But Peter begs to differ. When they talk and bicker during meetings, he listens. Makes notes on what to do, takes care of the spare specimens of documents they dropped. Reads and memorizes them all by heart. Learns to read between the lines, to pick out the words and twisted their many meanings to benefit him.

He watches diplomatic meetings of various nations, how they act in the presence of their government and political figures. Presidents and prime ministers, which are the ones you can willingly and gladly tell your stories to, your experiences as a nation, and those you know you can never trust.

Although politics confuse him, Peter knows he needs them in order to be recognised. So he learns, unnoticed by the eyes of the very people whom he strives to become. They do not know, and neither does he, but in time he would succeed them, bringing forward the next generation to a few era.

* * *

XIII: Hyacinth (Shingeki no Kyojin) Eren, Petra

The brook was quiet, no other human or animal within sight. Eren walked to the flowing path of water, hands clutching a messy bouquet of hastily uprooted hyacinths. Tears fell from his face, and fingers trembling, he stood over the waters' edge.

Pressing the clusters of white and purple to his mouth, he inhaled the sweet smell of the hyacinths and whispered a silent prayer, both painful and determined. With a toss, the bouquet flew in an arc before hitting the water with a loud splash, disintegrating. Watching the flowers floated away, Eren clenched the palm of his fist tightly before looking to the sky, bathed in the fragrant aroma stilling lingering in the air.

_"I'm sorry Petra, please forgive me."_

* * *

XIV:_ in Vergessenheit Geraten _(Hetalia) Rome, China

It had been a simple glimpse of that oh so familiar landmark, but Yao could feel his heart crumbling, mind whisking him back to days of long ago. There had been a distinct smell of smoke. Not the kind caused by fires of war, this flame had been burning within a tiny pot, and was emitting a wonderful, heady scent.

He had remembered worn, calloused hands handing him the pot, carved with intricate koi and lotus, and a gentle smile, so unlike the giver's usual flirty ones. Strange, so matter how hard he tried, Yao could not remember much of his companion's face. Only a blank patch remained and resided in his memory, something that made him feel troubled and uneased.

Feeling something wet slide down his cheeks, Yao brought his hands to his cheek, startled that he was shedding tears. For a brief moment, he swear he could feel a slight pressure cupping his shoulder, and a familiar, oh so familiar laugh that he could not seem to recall.

* * *

XV: _B'shert_ (Hetalia) Seychelles, Vietnam, Russia, Romano

The letter laid on the table, scribbles of heart-felt confessions and poorly drawn hearts covering the note that used to lay dormant within it, trying to convey the sender's affections. "So," Lien began, eyebrows raised in amusement, "you have no idea who sent you that letter."

"No." Michelle's eyes sparkled excitedly. "I have no idea, but this is a really nice of him, whoever he is."

"And you want us to help you find this admirer of yours, _da_?" Leaning against the opposite wall, Ivan smiled as he popped the question.

"If it's not too much trouble, yes." Michelle replied.

"Tch, this is your own problem, why can't you do it yourself anyway?" A respectfully safe distance away from Ivan, Lovino grumbled, unhappy that he was called here in the middle of making pizza. "Though I supposed I can help you anyway since I don't have anything to do."

"Thank you." Michelle's eyes were still fixed on the scribbled note, her eyes having a vaguely dreamy look in them_. "Is this what being in love feels like? It feels really...wonderful."_

* * *

XVI: _Citygirl_ (Original) Unknown

A girl sits by the table in a small comfortable room. Stacks of books and papers littered the table she rests on, but she pays them no mind. The mess comforts her anyway, to a degree.

Beneath her, tens of stories below, cars rumble passed and buses honked loudly. Paying the sounds no mind, she continues typing to the screen in front of her, eyes lit with an unusually bright fire. Lines upon lines of black ink, holding her thoughts, her emotions, her soul, filled the white screen, staining it a patterned symphony of yin and yang.

Hands pressing the keys into a rapid crescendo, she halts suddenly, and the air, so still, holds her in limbo. A moment passes, before her back slumps sluggishly. The fire in her eyes flickers dimly and she smiles, her work complete and urges sated.

She clicks the mouse once, watching the window close, and sits back in her chair, fire glowing beneath the hoods of her eyes and waits. Contemplating, awaiting.

* * *

A/N-it is 10:50 GMT +8:00 and so I will update tomorrow

-Kicks all characters involved in this fic out of my house and shuts the door after giving them apple strudel- "Come back for cake on Saturday, you guys."

**-Edit-**

Ayy I'm back to fill this A/N. Firstly, not much to say here except that this was a last-minute idea and was written all in the span of one day. Journey is a great game, really. Go play it on the PS3 if you have one or go watch playthroughs of it. The music is divine. If you haven't already noticed, I have a penchant for strange, mysterious beautiful foreign words. German words, especially, as I find that many of them are so relatable but unexplainable in English and many other languages.

Notes: All Hetalia pairings can be taken unromantically unless blatantly stated otherwise. (A/N eg. GreViet) (This also includes all other fandom drabbles.) Special mention drabble is Rome/China. Oh my goodness, I don't ship non-hetero but this pair I swear, its so painful and angsty.

White hyacinths signify loveliness and "I'll pray for you", purple hyacinths signify sorrow, a plea for forgiveness and "I'm sorry." Cries I'm still not over Petra's death. Damn you Isayama.

Translations (for the lazy and curious):

Zweisamkeit (German)-the harmonious, often romantic togetherness of two people; a feeling of closeness and affection from being together with someone

Forelsket (Norweigian)-the euphoria you experience when you are first falling in love

C'est pour cela que je suis née (French)-"I was born for this" Quote by the legendary Maid of Orleans, Joan of Arc.

in Vergessenheit Geraten (German)-to be forgotten in a way one fades away in someone's memory , continuously being erased from every history there is

B'shert (Yiddish)-literally 'destiny'; the seeking of a person who will complement you, and whom you will complement perfectly


End file.
